The Simpsons: Bart

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***

After the loss to Cornell, I was on a tear. I literally thrashed the locker room until the other guys forcefully brought me to my senses.

How could I lose in the second round?! How could he hold me down again?! Didn't I put enough effort into training?! Will I even be able to beat him...?

And if I can't? What's the point of even trying out for the Olympics?! So you can suck at it?!

- Haaah.

Eventually I ended up on the streets of the capital. Realising I'd make another mess in my room, a walk was my choice. A walk of fifty kilometres.

I ended up not knowing where I'd gone at all. Not that I care much. After all, I would definitely be contacted before being sent home, and I could contact the organisers myself to get them to pick me up.

However, instead of looking for a way back, I found a park bench. On which I lounged, staring up at the green branches of the trees.

I felt ashamed of my reaction to my defeat. I wish I could start making excuses now, citing anything, but.... No. I had just behaved wrongly, cowardly, and excuses would not save the picture.

I took out my phone to check the map and get a route. Saw the missed calls. I put them away for later. Got on the map and...

- Oh, there's a bakery next door with a 4.7 rating? - for a big city, that's gotta be a high rating, right?

After stretching my feet, which were on the side of the bench and clearly blistered, I decided to check out the places nearby for a break and a snack.

There was a pizzeria popular all over the country. There was a sushi bar of some sort, located in a narrow room. A representative of a popular burger franchise was also nearby.

So leafing through the nearby places, I got further and further away from the park. Until I came across a music cafe. Judging by the number of reviews, it was an unusual cafe, where randoms come to play something for the soul.

Deciding to check out the menu, I came across a list of people who had managed to play there. Some names, not that I recognised, but I'd obviously heard of them. Mostly they were musicians of country, folk, soft rock genres. In general weakly popular nowadays directions for mass consumers.

Having found the menu and basically realising that there was nothing special in it, I wanted to close the page, but suddenly my eyes fell on the panel with today's artists. Seeing a name that I had not just heard, but knew intimately, I decided to go to this music cafe after all.

The place looked like it was built for a film shoot. Black brick lay at the base and roof, separated from the red in the centre by panels of dark, hard looking wood. Above the wide windows hung a painted sign in black with white, elegant letters. I did not memorise the name, for I do not think I shall ever return to this place.

The interior was three steps below the tarmac. The walls were flesh-coloured, and the whole place was flooded with light due to the wide windows. In the centre stood a counter with a bar, which mostly consisted of non-alcoholic drinks, and a closed kitchen hiding behind it.

After ordering my food, I made my way to the couch near the window. The tables stood close together, very much flirting with the fringe whenever it was uncomfortable. And such architecture seemed rather natural when looking at the number of visitors. My rather cosy seat was vacant, most likely solely because the stage could only be seen out of the corner of my eye, through other people's backs, and hands.

- Still, she...

A smile appeared on my face when I saw a girl with light-blond hair tied back in a ponytail, covered with freckles, and with eyebrows that were puffy and cute. Yes, that was the same Mary Spuckler.

- Is everything working? - Mary's voice came to me through the crowd, as warm as steamed milk.

Mary was probably different from any girl I'd ever liked. She wasn't bitchy, or sugary sweet. She liked to play outside, and she wasn't afraid of dirt. I guess it must have something to do with the fact that she was born in a rural part of Springfield? I don't know. But for all her boyish directness most of the time, her tongue itself wouldn't let me call her a kid.

She was cute in her wedding dress when Cletus almost married us. And in a pretty outfit when we met in New York. But she was especially adorable when.....

- A familiar brat has come again~

Mary doesn't have an angelic voice, or an expressive voice. I guess you could say of her voice that it's as ordinary as possible. Moreover, instead of virtues, it's easier to find faults in it, such as a slight nasality or stereotypical country talk.

But perhaps that's what makes it special? Makes the sentiments voiced in the song seem real, befitting the real world, rather than coming from a film or TV series.

- I wonder how Lou is doing in India? How long do cows live anyway? - Mary reminded me of an old friend from the distant past.

.....

Over a song that took us back in time, lunch passed with particular enjoyment. At the end of the performance, Mary was given a round of applause, albeit restrained, honouring the venue and the musical genre.

There were a few people who asked for her autograph and a couple of people who wanted to take selfies with her. Mary agreed with a smile that smelled of a certain discouragement.

- Excuse me, can I buy you a drink? - As the excitement died down, I approached my old friend with an offer.

- I'm sorry, I don't think that's a good idea. - but Mary gave me a smile that said, 'Get away, maniac.'

- You really don't recognise me? - That made me wonder, it even broke my voice a little.

- You know... - Mary looked away, as if she was ingratiating herself with where to find help. - Have you been to one of my shows?

- I'm Bart, Bart Simpson.

- No way! - Mary's mouth opened wide, as it seemed from surprise. As it seemed... - Bart couldn't be that pumped up, all he was interested in was video games, so he simply wouldn't have time.

- How long are you gonna keep bringing that up?

- Depends on how long we date. - Mary finally smiled her sunny smile. And I stared at her like a sunflower, forgetting her trick. - Oh, and yes, by 'dating,' I meant crossing paths in different places. Well, if you want to be friends, then that can be included in that meaning as well. Just don't think I meant... Well. That one, you know?

- Ha-ha-ha, don't worry, I get it. I've got a girlfriend, too.

- Die, you real person.

- First you call me a nerd, and now you want me to die like a real person?!

.....

Eventually we moved our conversation offstage to my table. But we were given a round of applause for a great comedy performance.

- Well, you know. - Mary began her story after I asked about how she got back into show business despite coming home. - I like animals, taking care of them, feeding them, raising them.....

Yes, Mary helped me a lot when I raised a steer myself for a school assignment. Lou was originally a bit of a laggard, but in the end I was able to raise him into a real bull! That's how Mary and I became friends. It's nice to know she hasn't changed and is still the same sweet girl...

- It's also fun to chop them up sometimes. You know when someone pisses you off, it's so nice to take a sharp axe covered in dried blood and chop off a few chicken heads.

With the thought that I shouldn't tell Mary about continuing to live at the same address, I swallowed loudly, adjusting my collar.

- Back to less pleasant topics than chopping and skinning animals.... Besides working on the farm, the question of my marriage and having children came up more and more often. - Isn't it a bit early? Mary, like me, is only eighteen. - Which caused a whole host of problems, haha.

- Yeah, I can imagine the constant nagging from your parents about marriage can be very annoying. - although I can only imagine, because I can't remember exchanging more than a couple of sentences with mine.

- Well, that's tolerable. It's the constant greasy proposals from my brothers that's unbearable.

The shock of what I heard made me spit out all the drink I had just put in my mouth.

- Ahh. Yeah, it's hard for city folk to understand our way of life. - As if Mary hadn't just brought up a taboo topic with an 'i' in it, she commented on my reaction like a kindergartener's prank. - In any case, I didn't like either of the brothers.....

- Whoo! - A geyser burst out of me for the second time.

- Haa... Lisa must be having a really hard time with you.

- Lisa is not my girlfriend!

- Really?' the Spuckler was genuinely surprised. - You two make such a good couple. She's smart, beautiful, interesting, and you're Bart.

- First of all, Zubrila is not a woman. Secondly, even I have my virtues.

- Of course you do, Bart. - Mary looked away with a poorly concealed smile.

- If I'm so without virtues, it's worse for you, because you've dated me, Ha!

- Getting back to how I got back to the music.....

- Changing the subject right away?!

- Why didn't they do an encore on stage? - Unhappy whispers were heard from the rest of the cafe.

.....

- I ended up putting a few songs on YouTube and they.....

- Let me guess, they got a trillion views and made you an instant superstar?

- Yeah... The first one got fifteen, the second one got thirty-four. And that's in one year. - not the sad turnaround I was expecting. - I put out a few more. But my equipment was so-so, as was persistently reminded in the comments and.... Eventually I gave up and tried to reach out to people from the past that I worked with as a kid.

- And they helped you get back on your feet?

- Yeah. - that familiar, joyless 'aha.' - No one wrote me back. No, one sent a dick pic. I've been trying to find a music-related job in Springfield and--

- I'm getting scared to guess, but that's how you got it?

- Yeah. I didn't find anything. I mean, I didn't get hired anywhere. So I had to think and look for somewhere I could give in. I moved to the state capitol, and, well.

- ...

- No other options? - Mary looked at me with a strange mixture of excitement and fatigue. - Anyway, I took the most musical job of all: dishwashing.

- Oh ... - what's she doing in Washington playing in a famous music café? Or am I just rushing through the story, and now there's an incredible plot twist waiting to happen with success.

- Along the way, I was recruited into a small band as a guitarist. So that's my story.

- So, why are you here?

- Huh? There was a folk music festival in D.C. that ended yesterday. We played there.

- So.

- I've accomplished nothing, Bart. More like a real loser. - I wanted to say something, but before my stupid head could do anything, Mary smiled and continued: - But that's okay. After all, I'm only eighteen. It's strange to expect success, at such a young age, isn't it?

- I suppose...? - Mary's words reminded me of my defeat to Cornell. I felt much more ashamed of my reaction to the defeat than I had before.

- But you know what, Bart? - Apparently noticing the change in me, Mary took my hands in hers. - I'm happy. Even if I don't make millions. Even if I have to make sacrifices. Even though a dozen people know about me and my band. I may be a total loser. But I'm doing what I love to do, and that makes me very, very happy. Is there anything more important than that?

- Hmm, I guess you're right. - Mary's smile made my heavy thoughts go away. So I squeezed her hands in return and smiled. - I'll be rooting for you, Mary Spuckler. You do your best!

- Thank you. You too. I'll have faith in you!